


Tom Gets Spanked

by Chianine



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Cherry Pop, Community: norsekink, Creampie, Dirty Talk, First Time, Humiliation, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Pornography, Shame, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chianine/pseuds/Chianine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is a young actor really desperate for cash. He ends up doing a spanking video, just for some quick money. Chris is the guy who spanks him.</p><p>It was supposed to be a one time thing but Tom gets really popular so the producers are willing to pay him more money to come back. And, well, he's still pretty broke, so he ends up agreeing. As he does more videos, they end up escalating in craziness. </p><p>It comes out that he's never been with a guy and he gets offered a HUGE amount of money to get his ass cherry popped on camera. He agrees, even though he doesn't really want to, thinking it can't be that bad. Chris, who's been his partner in all these videos, does the deed. Tom does not have a good time taking his giant cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, it's porn, but it's not porn,” Nell explained carefully.

Tom cocked his head and squinted in response.

“You won't have to be naked or anything. It's just a fetish film, for weirdos. Bob's thing is spankings. He's like Mr. Spankings in the porn world,” Nell shrugged, “He's a big deal, and he pays pretty well.”

Tom was still wearing the same disgusting smirk. “How the hell do you know these people?”

“What?” Nell shot back defensively, “You meet all sorts of people at those parties in Topanga Canyon. And what are you being so elitist about? He's not a bad person, and some people think his shit is like, art. Meanwhile, you have an eviction notice taped to your door.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Not exactly the kind of art I was imagining myself making when I came to Los Angeles.”

Nell sighed. “Look, you said you were desperate. You're out of money, you don't want to ask your mom for help again, so unless you're ready to pack up and run back to London with your tail between your legs, it's time to grow a pair.”

Tom had dropped the shitty attitude. He was staring down in his lap and picking at a hanging thread on the inner seam of his Levi's. Nell had hit a nerve.

“I showed him a picture of you. He's already had every cloned twink in LA in front of his camera, and he wants something fresh. I told him you're a real actor who can give him something he's probably never seen before.” She paused as Tom laughed disdainfully, then finished, “He says he'll give you fifteen hundred dollars for a day's work. That's more than most guys are getting to take a dick!” She paused as Tom gave her a sharp look, then went on, “I'm serious, he likes you. And once you go down there and show off your charm, he might call you again with more work.”

Tom covered his face with his hands and groaned.

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” she repeated, “is enough for you to pay your rent and still have something left over to live on. You don't have to take your clothes off, you don't have to use your real name, and you don't have to tell your mother. But if you're really above it, Tom, then you can go back home now and spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you stuck around and went to a few more auditions. It's up to you...” She tossed a business card into his lap.

“So what- I just recite a few lines in front of a camera and then bend over for some has-been cougar porn-star call me a naughty little boy while she paddles me?” Tom asked.

“Kinda. Except your co-star probably isn't going to be some cougar...” Nell stood up to leave, “Just call the guy, OK?”

 

Tom showed up three days later at a house in Tarzana for the shoot. The place was huge and most of it couldn't be seen from the street. He pressed a buzzer on the outer gate and smiled into a security camera to be buzzed in. At the front door, he was welcomed by a an aging man in a jogging suit whose nasally voice matched the one he had heard on the phone days before.

“Tom! Oh my God! Look at you...” he gasped dramatically as took Tom's face in his hands in a way that was a little too familiar, “Precious. Absolutely to die for!” He clapped his hands together. “I'm Bob, by the way.”

Three days earlier, after a long inner struggle and a few shots of whiskey, he had called the number Nell left him with. Bob had wanted to know everything about Tom's time at Eton and RADA, as if he relished thinking of the wasted skill and talent he was going to feature in his trashy film. Bob had promised an on-the-spot check, no nudity, and only about three hours of work. Tom forced himself to say yes.

Bob led him into a living room where some guys were setting up several cameras around a couch that was apparently going to be the scene of Tom's humiliation. He cringed. He looked out of a sliding glass door and saw on the patio a muscular blonde lying on a bench lifting weights. 

“Ah! You've found your co-star, Chris!” Bob exclaimed, “Chris! Come on in here and meet your new boyfriend!” Bob giggled and gave Tom a wink.

Tom thought he was going to puke. When he had heard the name Chris on the phone he had assumed it was short for Christina. He didn't really have a problem with Chris being a man, what bothered him was the fact that Chris's biceps were bigger than Tom's head. 

Tom's mother and father had bought into the whole non-violent parenting thing, so his childhood punishments had consisted of restrictions and long boring talks. Today he was getting the first spanking of his entire life, and it was going to be done by someone who looked like Conan the Barbarian. As Chris walked toward him with a sly grin, he seriously considered running to his car, speeding home, and calling his mum to buy him a plane ticket for Heathrow the next day. 

“All right, mate,” Chris said in a bright Australian accent and put out his hand. If his handshake was a taste of things to come, Tom was not going to be able to sit down for a week after this.

“I know what you're thinking, Tom, “Bob laughed, “don't worry. Chris will be gentle- sort of. It just needs to _look_ like it hurts. That's where your incredible skill comes in. I have no doubt you'll be wonderful.”

Chris gave him a hard slap on the back that was not reassuring, “Relax, we'll have fun.”

Tom took twice as long as necessary in the bathroom changing into his costume. He was a plumber apparently, complete with a nonsense belt around his waist and a thin, torn T-shirt. He eventually got the nerve to exit his sanctuary. When he found them in the kitchen, Bob and Chris were whispering conspiratorially to each other and separated at his approach.

“Well, well,” Bob looked Tom over, “are you ready for your close-up, Norma?” he teased.

“Tom laughed politely, “Do you have a script for me to look over?”

“A script?” he exchanged sly glances with Chris, “No. That would spoil the element of surprise for you!” Bob put an arm around Tom, “Besides, it's not really a complicated story. You're bad, Chris punishes you, you don't like it. All you have to do is not like it one bit.”

That was not going to be a challenge.

“Oh yeah,” Bob said, “and don't look into the camera.”

The story wasn't just simple, it was downright stupid. Tom and Chris were plumbers. Tom is Chris's clumsy apprentice, he unscrews something while they're working on a sink and causes a fountain of water to shoot directly into Chris's face. Then Tom gets a spanking. That was all he was told.

“Chris is a professional. Just take his lead.” Bob laughed. “You'll find it rather difficult to do otherwise.” Bob pushed Tom to his mark in front of the sink, “OK people, cameras rolling...”

It was easy to act his part. Tom felt clumsy and confused as he fumbled with the sink, Chris looming over him. Tom stuttered awkward apologies as Chris glared down at him until finally they cued the geyser and Chris took it right in the eye. He wiped the water from his face and looked at Tom like he was going to kill him. At this point Tom was appropriately worried and paralyzed, not just from Chris' surprising acting skills, but also because he had no idea what to do from there.

Chris stepped closer into Tom's space and growled “I told you never to let that happen again, Tom.”

Tom searched for a response, having just learned that squirting water was apparently a recurring problem in their working relationship. “I'm s-sorry?”

“What did I say would happen the next time?” Chris flexed his jaw, and Tom didn't have to pretend to be terrified.

“That you would -” the words got stuck in Tom's throat, and his mind clung to a hope that if he didn't say it then it wouldn't happen. The tension, the silence between their ridiculous characters was building. Tom swallowed hard and choked out, “...spank me?”

Chris's answer came in the form of a few quick and efficient movements. He bent over just enough to grab Tom around the knees and sling him over his shoulder and marched quickly out of the room. Before he knew it Tom was being thrown onto the couch. Instinct kicked in. He scrambled to get away but Chris was on him, yanking off his belt and yelling at him to be still.

Tom turned over on his back and raised a plaintive hand to Chris. “Please, please, oh God just-” Tom gasped, but Chris only shook his head firmly.

“The sooner this is over with, the sooner we can get back to work. Now turn over and pull your pants down.” 

“What!?” the word came pealing out of Tom's throat. “My pants? No, no. I can't do that. Please don't make me do that...”

“Tom...” Chris warned impatiently.

“No! Let me keep my pants on! I'm begging you,” He put his hands on Chris's hips, beseeching him, “Please...”

Chris closed his eyes and sighed, “You know this will hurt me more than it hurts you, Tom. Just do as you're told, and this will all be over soon...”

Tom was baffled. If he wasn't so panicked, he might feel impressed by Chris's ability to say these things with such genuine feeling. As it was, he was caught in a nightmare. “Oh God. Ok, ok.”

He tried not to cry as he unbuttoned his jeans and forced his body to turn itself over. He pushed his jeans down just below his ass, and closed his eyes tightly.

The first strike came with unexpected fury. His eyes shot open.

“That's one...”

“No! That hurts! You- you promised!” Tom had turned to shield his offended ass, “No, I can't do this!”

“Be a man and turn over, Tom!” Chris had lost his patience, or at least his character had.

“This is insane!” Tom screamed.

“Turn over, or I will make you...”

“What?” The word was barely out of Tom's mouth when he felt Chris lift him up and slam him back down on his chest. Then he held Tom down with a knee on his back pushed his pants down past his knees.

“Two!”

Tom lost control of himself. He screamed and begged for mercy, nearly drowning out Chris' voice as he counted the licks.

“Three!...Four!...Five!...Six!...Seven!...”

Tom was red-faced and angry. The cameras had disappeared in his mind; he was being brutalized by a giant and was helpless to stop it. It was real. He squirmed and cried out, but the licks kept coming, and hard. 

“Eight!...Nine!...Ten!”

Chris got up and Tom could breathe again. Now the burn on his backside took over his sensory awareness, as he lay panting into the couch, stunned and blank.

“Get up, Tom, we have a schedule to keep.” He threw Tom's belt and it landed on his back.

Tom gathered himself, moving automatically, and stood to draw up his pants, being careful of his stinging bottom. He replaced the belt, and followed Chris out of the living room and off-camera.

Applause. 

“That was phenomenal.” Bob approached Tom with a look of awe that Tom didn't see. He wasn't looking at anyone. He collected his check and went home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me for doing this to Tom.

Three weeks later Tom heard from Bob again. 

In the meantime, he had only gotten a handful of auditions from people who didn't even watch him after they saw his face. _We'll call you._ and then, _Next!_ before he was even out of the camera's frame. Nothing was working, and he couldn't figure out why. Was he too tall, too skinny, too British, or too proper? Was he not blonde enough? Not muscular enough? Not enough like... _him_?

Tom had been having nightmares about Chris. They were always different but always horribly the same. They were stuck on a boat together, or imprisoned, or lost in the wilderness. But always, Tom had to rely on Chris for survival and he was completely helpless. And though it was never verbalized, there was always the feeling hanging over him that if he did something wrong, he would get spanked. And for some reason, that was more terrifying than dying from whatever circumstances they were in.

He stopped talking to Nell, ignoring her calls, because he didn't want to tell her how the _job_ had gone. And now, three weeks later, here was Bob ringing him, and he was in the same boat as before- no money and too proud to call for some or go home. He was tired of eating ramen, so he answered.

Bob said that the video was an unprecedented success. It was available online, and had already brought Bob more money than anything else he had done to date. He was ready to do it again, fans were clamoring for more, and he was willing to pay Tom what he was worth.

“It can't be like it was last time,” Tom said, “I was sore for days. That guy,” Tom pretended to forget Chris's name, “he _has_ to go easier or I'll stop the shoot, right then and there.” It felt good to make demands after three straight weeks of rejection. 

“Yes, um, Chris is actually very sorry about that.” Tom could practically hear the bullshit smile on Bob's face through the phone, “says he got a little carried away...”

“Carried away?” Tom snapped, “I thought he was a professional.”

“He is. I mean, the performance he got out of you was unbelievable -”

“That wasn't a performance! I was in pain. I asked him to stop.”

“Tom, I don't think you really understand how breathtaking you were. Whatever it was, it was magic. Now I need to get you in here again. You have some leverage, I shouldn't tell you that, but you do. So name your price.”

“Five thousand.”

Bob laughed, “Jenna Jameson you are not. I said name a price, not jerk me around.”

“Four thousand.”

“Three thousand,” Bob answered, “and this time I wanna see your bare ass.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Excuse me? For three grand, I should be asking you for a marathon fuck. Maybe you need to sleep on it.”

When he woke up the next morning, there were three texts on his phone from Nell. The first two were demands that he call her, and the third was notifying him that the name of a certain British actor and director he knew was being attached to a Marvel property currently in the beginning stages of development. He jumped out of bed. Ken Branagh? This could be his chance! And for Marvel... he tried to calm himself as he dialed her number.

“Wow,” she answered, “I'm glad to know our friendship isn't based solely on what I can do to help you with your career. You know, I just love how you call me out of the blue, just to see how my day is going, let me know how much you care, and just you know, to chat...”

Tom sighed, he supposed he deserved this. “I'm sorry, it's just, I've been really under the weather lately. Things haven't been going well, and I wouldn't have been good company, trust me.”

“Oh no,” Nell whined with that phony Hollywood sympathy Tom found slightly nauseating, “I thought you would be happy, what with your being the new internet sensation and all...”

“What?” Tom asked sharply.

“Yeah! Your pretty mug is all over Bob's spankhouse.com. Man, you even look good with your face all twisted in pain. I wish I had that gift. Only 19.99 and you can view it as many times as you want. I think I’ve seen it at least ten times already. It was a big hit at my martini party on Friday that you failed to show up at -”

“- Nell! That's enough!”

“All right. I'm guessing you didn't have a great time, but, you know, I think you're brave. I really mean it. And if it means you'll have the money to stick around for these Marvel auditions, then it's definitely nothing to be ashamed of...”

 

Tom rung Bob as soon as he hung up with Nell. They set up the shoot for next week, and Bob said he was bringing in a real director this time. Tom wondered if that was supposed to make a difference to him.

“Tom!” Bob greeted him at the gate this time and walked him into the house with a hand on Tom's back. They walked straight into an upstairs bedroom that was crowded with bodies, equipment, and the accompanying prep activity. Chris and another man with obnoxiously manicured facial hair were sitting on stools behind the camera. 

“See boys, I told you he'd make it,” Bob said.

Both men looked at Tom, Chris smiling familiarly as he rose to give Tom a firm handshake. “All right, mate. Good to see you again. Glad you could make it.” He winked.

Tom's blood froze in his veins. How could Chris be so casual after last time? Was Tom really making a bigger deal of things than they were? No, the sore ass he had put up with was no hallucination. Chris was just demented. He smiled curtly as Chris squeezed his hand, and felt the other man's eyes all over him from his seat.

“And this is Tony, the director.” Bob motioned to the facial hair who shook Tom's hand from his stool.

“So this is the primadonna we're paying out the nose for. Well, for looks like that, I guess I can see why.” Tony winked at him as the other two men laughed, then began chewing on a pair of sunglasses that were hanging on the collar of his T-shirt. “All right,” Tony said, gesturing with his glasses, “turn around.”

“Excuse me?” Tom asked indignantly.

“Turn around and let me see your ass. I wanna know what I'm working with here.”

Tom glanced at Bob and Chris as if they would speak up on his behalf.

“Hey, mate. This man's a genius. Tony knows what he's doing. Just give him a twirl, he means no disrespect.” Chris assured, giving Tony a playful elbow in his side.

Tom sighed and turned his back slowly. He was wearing one of his tightest and most flattering pairs of trousers.

“Well, I'll be...” Tony said flatly, much to the amusement of Bob and Chris. “OK, drop 'em.”

“What?” Tom asked.

“Drop your pants. I said I wanna see what we're working with. Don't waste my time.”

Tom fumbled with his fly for a moment and pushed the waist slowly down past the pooch of his bottom. He was wearing loose briefs with a bright paisley design that brought sniggers out of the three men watching him. Tony cleared his throat. “Come on honey, I'm paying for the full monty here.”

Tom hooked his fingers in the waistband of his briefs and pushed them down slowly to the sound of whistles. He shut his eyes and ground his jaw in shame.

“Now that's an ass.” Tony said, leaning forward to look at the two sumptuous mounds sitting atop the wrinkled folds of Tom's pants. “OK sweetheart, you've teased us enough for now. Put your panties back on and come over here.”

Tom was furious, but he held his tongue.

“OK. Tell me, if you can remember - how many men have you fucked?” Tony asked in a pleasant, nonchalant tone.

“I'm sorry, but I don't think that's any of your business!” Tom snapped.

“Oh, come on,” Tony shrugged, unscathed, “I don't why you're being so prissy – we're all a bunch of cockjocks here. I promise there's no number you can throw out there that will shock anybody in this room. Don't be shy.”

Tom scrunched his eyebrows, looking at Tony like he was from another planet. “None.”

“'Scuse?”

“None, all right? I'm not gay. I don't sleep with men.”

Tony's mouth dropped open, Bob pretended to cough and Chris pinched his lips closed to keep himself from laughing.

“You're kidding me, right?” Tony asked with raised eyebrows.

“No!” Tom said, putting his hands on his hips, “Why? Is that a problem?”

“No! Hey, no problem at all! Not for me, anyway. It just, you know, explains a lot. But, uh, you do realize that there will be a lot of, you know, touching during this shoot. Are you comfortable with that?”

Tom looked over at Chris, who seemed very amused as he shook the foot he had slung on top of his knee. “What _kind_ of touching?” Tom asked.

“Nothing intense. Just, you know – intimate.”

“I won't have anybody laying a hand on my privates.”

Everyone laughed at that. Tom could not understand why.

“Well I hope you're not to talking about your ass when you say that.”

“Of course not. I'm talking about my -”

“ - your cock? Don't worry, precious,” Tony turned to Chris with an affected lisp, “Chris, you keep your hands off the boy's ding-a-ling, you hear me?” Tony turned back to Tom, who was fuming, sucking his cheeks in as he exhaled through his nostrils. “Chris will be good, baby boy. I swear.”

Tom spent the next half-hour before the shoot sitting by the pool and listening to people mock him and everything he had said during his meeting with Tony. He kept his eyes on his phone, pretending to do something important, but really the situation was killing him. Hate was not a familiar emotion for Tom, but he hated these people. He hated the way the looked at him, treated him like an idiot, and seemed to enjoy anything that made him uncomfortable or vulnerable. He had become accustomed to rejection and could handle being unwanted. Bob and Tony, though, wanted Tom; they seemed to be the only people in the world right now who did. If only they wanted to do something besides humiliate him.

Tom was asked to come inside. The cameras were all in place and everyone was ready to go. Tony explained the scenario while Chris stood behind him, already in his underwear and openly palming his cock.

“The most important thing here, Tom, is trust. This isn't like the last video you guys did together. This is supposed to be consensual, okay, you _want_ it, and bad. I want to feel that want from you Tom, I want to feel how hard it is for you to resist the urge to just go ahead and swallow that big, swollen cock that you love so much.” Tony said, baring his teeth and gripping Tom's shoulder, “The two of you are _in love_. No screaming, no whining, no 'I change my mind' and remember, the less we have to stop the shoot, the sooner we get out of here. So buck up, and show me you're an actor like Bob says.”

“Do I have any lines?”

“No. That always ends up being ridiculous. Just remember your character. You love this man,” Tony pointed at Chris, “and you want to make him happy. Your bad, and you want him to punish you. Your character doesn't know what's going to happen, so neither do you.”

“Well, excuse me, but I _want_ to know what-”

“- No, no, no. Time is money, my friend. Just give me the magic.”

The cameras were already rolling. Chris was in character immediately, staring down at Tom with a wounded look of longing and despair. He seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that he was in his underwear. Tom returned the gaze, waiting for the giant to speak.

“Tom...” Chris said as if the word broke his heart. 

“Yes?” Tom asked, looking into Chris' eyes, doing his best not to laugh. Things probably weren't going to be funny for very long, he lamented. 

Chris placed his hands on Tom's shoulders and let them run down his arms. He said nothing. Tom dropped his eyes to the floor as the silence made him feel uncomfortable, lost. Chris lifted his hands and ran his fingers through Tom's curls and over his face, exploring him. He pressed his palms flat against Tom's neck and let them fall down his chest slowly, stopping momentarily over his hardened nipples. Damn, he hadn't meant for that to happen. Chris let out a low grunt when he felt the little knots and bit his lip. Chris's hands finished the trek to Tom's waist and roughly pulled him forward. “Where were you today when I called you?”

“What?” Tom asked, distracted by the petting as well as the troubling closeness of his and Chris's cocks. He had never been this close to a nearly naked man with a hard-on before, not that he knew of, and certainly if he had been the man wasn't stroking him and grunting.

“I said, where were you today when I called you? You sounded... strange, rushed. Were you with somebody?” Chris tightened his squeeze on Tom's waist.

“What? No!” It was easy to channel the dread one would feel in the arms of a jealous lover as big as Chris. He gazed unsteadily into Chris's eyes, looking for the right answer. “I wasn't with anybody, I -”

“Tom,” Chris drawled, pressing their bodies even closer together, “don't lie to me.”

“I'm not. I wouldn't...” Tom could feel Chris's hard-on poking into his groin, as well as the eyes of everyone in the room pressuring him to allow it. Chris backed off right as Tom was about to say something, then gently lifted Tom's arms above his head and pulled his shirt off. He moaned at the sight of Tom's bare chest and began stroking him again.

It was torture. It felt good, being touched like that. He had never felt so wanted, so sexy, but at the same time there was something empty and greedy about it. Chris's hands were large and they moved over his body possessively, groping him as if it was his right, daring him to squirm or protest. “You wouldn't _what_?”

“I wouldn't lie to you.”

Chris's hands moved to Tom's ass, cupping it in both hands and squeezing, almost pulling Tom off his feet. “You wouldn't lie to me _what_?” Chris asked firmly.

“I wouldn't lie to you, _sir_.”

Chris continued working Tom's ass, grunting with pleasure and breathing heavily onto Tom's neck. “ _Sir?_ So I'm not your daddy anymore?”

Tom flushed at Chris's response. Chris was being genuine, there was not a touch of camp to keep him from being thrillingly obscene. Tom closed his eyes and answered, “Of course you’re still my daddy.” Tom paused, needing to swallow before he went on. His voice was barely above a whisper. “You always will be. And I would never, ever lie to you, daddy.”

When Tom opened his eyes, Chris looked like he was going to kiss him. His eyelids were sagging, the eyes themselves glazed. But then he only grit his jaw and growled almost noiselessly. “I believe you, Tom. I know what a good little boy you are,” Chris took his time with every word, “and I'm going to give you your reward. Are you ready?”

“Yes, daddy. I'm ready.”

Chris took down Tom's pants and seated himself on the edge of the bed. He patted his knee, inviting Tom to lean over. It seemed like a difficult position; Tom's body was long and he couldn't understand how Chris meant to hold him there. Awkwardly he bent over, presenting his ass to Chris who was already eagerly handling it, arranging Tom comfortably and holding him in place with his free hand.

“You remember the rules, right?” Chris asks.

“Yes, daddy.” Tom answers, though of course he has no idea what Chris is talking about. 

Chris moved Tom around on his lap as needed and pulled down his briefs. Tom was horrified to feel himself fall out the front of them onto Chris's leg. Chris felt it too, and rubbed his leg against Tom's exposed cock. Tom flinched, pushing back and causing his bottom to bounce in the air. Chris served Tom a first smack.

“Don't get too eager, boy.”

Tom's legs dangled from one side of Chris's lap, and on the other side, Tom braced himself against the bed frame and one of Chris's legs. He didn't prefer touching Chris more than he had to, but it was the only way to keep his blood from rushing to his face.

Chris did a little more arranging before he got started. He really could scoot and bounce Tom around on his lap like he was a little boy. It was no good for Tom's cock, which was striving to be invisible, but was clearly on Chris's radar, if not the camera's. 

“You know I'm only doing this for you?” Chris asked, and it really sounded like it was coming from the bottom of his heart.

“Yes.” Tom was choked by his own fluids, his head hanging upside down.

“Okay.” 

It started. The spanks came fast but not too hard. They didn't hurt like last time but that only made them worse. They were light, noisy, but only playful. Arousing. They only left what felt like a mild sunburn on his bottom when Chris stopped to soothe them.

“Is that enough?”

Tom was confused. Of course that wasn't enough. They had to want more. What was he to say? 

“No, daddy. More. Please.”

Chris yanked Tom's underwear down past his knees. He tensed; now he was completely naked in another man's lap. Chris moaned desperately as his hand strayed over the smooth display of Tom's nudity sprawling across his lap. Then he spanked Tom again, hard. Tom flinched and hissed at the sting, trying to keep his mouth shut per Tony's instructions. Chris kept letting loose on his ass, daring Tom to cry out as he gripped Chris's leg and bounced in his lap. 

“Is daddy all done?” Chris gasped, after several spankings, sounding alarmingly excited. He groped Tom's ass a few times and then began fumbling in his own underwear. Tom felt something hot and sticky against his side, and struggled to turn around and see what Chris was doing. A thick, raging-hard cock was sticking out the top of his Chris's briefs, shining with precome as he rubbed it angrily against Tom's waist. Tom shut his eyes and turned back to the floor. “I said, is daddy all done?” Chris repeated.

Tom groaned as he felt himself being hoisted against Chris's cock. He wanted this to be over now. But he could feel Chris's grip around his waist, his hand squeezing his ass, and knew things were going to get a lot worse from here.

“I guess that means no.”

Chris started spanking him with all his strength. Tom flinched at every strike, crying out without a care. He could feel Chris grinding against him, sliding his cock against his flesh as he used Tom's body to pleasure himself. Chris switched hands when he needed to, loosing a wrath of spankings on Tom's ass he thought should probably be illegal. Chris was moaning now, rhythmically and with increased desperation, although Tom barely noticed anything beyond the pain. Then suddenly the spanking stopped.

“ _All right. Oh fuck, oh fuck, this is fucking it._ ” Chris was gripping Tom's body and furiously humping him. He felt the cameras move in, and closed his eyes as he waited with horror for what he knew was going to happen. He felt something hot splash across his ass and back as Chris growled incoherently. Tom realized with horror that he was feeling another man come all over him and cringed as he felt another fountain of semen hit his bare skin.

Clapping, just like last time. Tom struggled to his feet and Chris fell back on the bed, spent. 

“Hey, that was great, mate! Absolutely fantastic.” Chris lifted his hand to offer Tom a high-five.

Tom stared back at Chris in amazement, covering his nudity with his hands since pulling up his underwear would mean getting them soaked in this asshole's come. “Fuck you!” Tom shrilly shouted back, then gathered his clothes from the floor and ran into the bathroom to the sound of laughter all around. As he turned on the shower, he could hear the crew mocking his angry response over and over again, each time earning more laughs than the last.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pervert's life for me.  
> Beware all ye who enter here...
> 
> Please, please, please, if you are a person that can be potentially squicked or triggered by issues of rape, sexual abuse, anal happenings or even plain bad taste, do not read on. I do not wish to offend.

It was an unknown number. Could be an audition call-back, but Tom was starting to lose faith that those even existed any more. He let the vibrating phone carry on in his hand for a few seconds before answering.

“Hello?” He sounded like an exhausted elderly woman.

“Hi! Uuh, is uh, is this, Tom?” The accent was unmistakeable, the voice of his nightmares and the bane of his sleepless nights.

Tom had been ill. He hadn't been eating well, or getting the exercise he needed, probably because he had been running on maybe an hour or two of sleep a night. He would lay in bed, the events of the terrible day with Chris and Tony and Bob repeating themselves over and over again until he thought he would go mad. He would analyze everything he said and did, from everyone's perspective, and then cringe at his own faults. He heard his own voice screaming, 'fuck you!' in that pathetic tone and knew why he had been the source of laugh. If only he could make them understand. He never spoke to people like that. He didn't know how to shout obscenities at people stylishly. Not unless he was imitating someone else.

“Yes, this is him. And you are?” Tom felt the least he could do in service of his own dignity was to keep the prick from knowing what an impact he had made on Tom's psyche.

“It's Chris! Your co-star.”

Tom re-positioned his grip on the phone and adjusted his own body beneath the childhood blanky he had been hiding under all morning. This was day three on the couch. He had a small wastebasket to throw used tissues in beside him and an electric kettle conveniently situated on the coffee table for chamomile tea. BBC-America, which apparently broadcasted nothing but reruns of Dr. Who and Star Trek during the day, played in the background. There was something comforting about Patrick Stewart yelling orders from the Captain's chair, something reassuring in it's clarity of purpose and imperative. The Star Trek universe was one that made sense. No officer on the Enterprise ever had to encounter the moral dilemma of whether or not it was right to let another man spank you and use you as a cum receptacle for money.

“Yes?” Tom coughed, then cleared his throat, “How can I help you?” He tried to keep his scratchy voice as steady and unfeeling as possible.

“Are you all right, mate? Sounds like you got a bit of the flu there-”

“It's nothing,” Tom cut in, annoyed at Chris's pity, “It's just a sinus thing, I'll get over it.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear you're not bed-ridden because I was calling to see if maybe you wanted to get a bite to eat.”

Tom sniffled, trying to make sense of the words he was hearing. “Are you asking me out on a date? Is that was this is? How did you get my number, anyway?”

Chris laughed, “I feel really sort of awful about the way things ended on the last shoot. I know you feel taken advantage of, and I want to try to make it up to you. I asked Bob for your num -”

“So you admit to being dishonest and misleading when you and your associates informed me what was expected of my performance, you humiliated me, and you think that taking me out to eat is supposed to make up for that?”

“No, of course not, Tom. I just- I think you've got the wrong idea about me. I'm a lot like you, I came to LA to make something of myself, and I've been working in this shady industry just trying to make ends meet. Just want us to get to know each other, you know?”

 

Tom was a sucker. He told himself he was going for the free lunch and the excuse to get off the couch but really he could not resist the kindness of others. They met at a very posh sushi bar in Santa Monica and Chris ordered the most expensive sake on the menu. There was already an extravagant rainbow roll on the table that Chris was picking at when Tom arrived. Chris looked rather nice, clean and with his hair tied back, and flattered Tom by rising to greet him when Tom walked up. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

“Order anything you want, mate, it's all on me and I'm in the mood for a splurge.” Chris said, handing Tom the menu.

Tom quickly got pretty drunk. The warm sake rolled down his throat like honey, soothing his illness as well as his bothered mind. He felt an illusory health and confidence as he listened to Chris's life story and shared his own. They had had different lives, but were both blessed with a loving and supporting family that knew nothing of the business they had met in. Their lives had converged in LA while they were chasing the same elusive dream, and both laughed at themselves for thinking they would ever make that a reality. 

Tom almost spoke up about the Marvel auditions he was attending in ten weeks' time, but stopped himself. They were looking for an actor to play Thor, and Chris absolutely looked the part. But Tom wanted that part, needed that part, and was ready to do anything to get it. He had already hired a personal trainer and purchased a bunch of disgusting protein shake powders to build the muscle necessary to prepare for the audition. Why should he alert someone else to the opportunity? He bit his finger, lost in his own thoughts as Chris kept talking. There was a guilt he felt about being so competitive, but he couldn't jinx himself by spilling it all to Chris.

The sake kept on coming and the sun lowered in the sky. The lunch rush emptied out, leaving Chris and Tom almost alone in the restaurant. Conversation moved on to the porn industry as Chris described how he had gotten involved, how he separated himself from the work, and how he planned to get past it. Then, maybe at a minute when Tom was distracted by the way the afternoon light was sparkling across a lily pond in the center of the restaurant, Chris was suddenly talking about butthole spanking. Tom was being asked to comment on the topic.

“I don't normally like to be judgmental, but it sounds disgusting and awful,” Tom said decisively, chuckling before swallowing another cupful of luke-warm sake.

“Well, maybe when you first hear about it, but, it's a very popular kink and there's a big market for it. It's, well, it's intimate, and very sexy, I think, when it's between two people who trust each other.”

Tom looked away from the pond to Chris's face. So he was being sold again. How stupid had he been, to think that Chris actually wanted to be his friend. “Go on,” Tom said.

“Well, I honestly hope you've seen the videos we've made-”

“No, I haven't seen either of them,” Tom interrupted, “and I don't want to.”

“Well, I figured that was true, but you should, because they're wonderful – what I should say is _you're_ wonderful in them - and the fans are berserk for you. They love you, they want to see more of you, the more the better. They want to see you more _intimately_.” Chris leaned over the table as he spoke, looking deeply into Tom's eyes as he refreshed Tom's drink. “So, what do you think? Willing to give it a try?”

“You're kidding me, right?” Tom smirked, though he was still lifting and then draining the cup Chris had poured for him.

“No. It'll be four thousand for you,” Chris perked up, obviously pleased by Tom's interest, “which is a lot, even more than what I'll get. There'll be a little bit of role playing, like last time, but no sex, not even – well, not like last time, nothing genital. I think. It's just, some dirty talk, and then, well,” Chris grinned as he squeezed some edamame from a shell into his mouth, “you splay 'em, and I flay 'em.”

“What?”

“You splay 'em, and I,” Chris made a whipping gesture with his wrist and clicked his tongue, “flay 'em. Not really, mate. It's just a manner of speaking. Just joking around.”

Tom felt like throwing a drink in his face. He stared into Chris's eyes, enjoying it when his self-satisfied grin melted away. “No. Not a chance.”

“Oh, come on -”

“No. You people have done this to me before. It sounds awful, painful, deranged, and I'm not letting anyone spank me on my – my bare anus. No way.”

 

Three days later he was steering his leased Honda off the freeway in Tarzana ready for who knows what. He couldn't afford to turn down the money. This time when he buzzed the gate, no one greeted him, and he was rather glad for that. No use standing on ceremony.

Bob, Tony, Chris and some other familiar faces were in the bedroom, talking or moving furniture around. Tom said nothing when he entered. For a few minutes he stood in the corner and watched as the crew redecorated the room. A couple of guys were putting a smaller bed together, while someone else was putting unengraved wrestling trophies on the shelf and hanging Nascar posters on the wall.

“Well, hello,” Tony said when he saw Tom, “I've got a surprise for you, princess.” Tony held out some papers in his hand. “There's a script this time! You can go and practice your lines while we finish up in here.”

Tom walked up and took the stapled papers in his hand, but when he pulled, Tony held fast. “No smile, no 'thank you'?” Tony smirked, “I thought this would make you happy, sweetheart.” 

Bob and Chris laughed as Tom yanked the papers away. “I'll be by the pool. Tell me when your ready.”

The script was, without a single doubt, the most disgusting and horrendous thing he had ever seen. At least three times he almost threw it in the pool. The worst part was that he felt himself getting a little hard while he read it. He had never been so angry at his own biology in all his life, not even when he drunkenly wet the bed as a university fresher.

He was staring into the rippling water, clenching his fist against his similarly gritting jaw when he heard Chris's voice behind him. “Pretty hot stuff, huh?” he asked enthusiastically.

Tom whirled around to see Chris tossing an apple up in the air before taking a bite out of it and smiling.

Tom's eyes shot poison back at him. “Are you kidding?” He lifted the script and shook it angrily, “This is the most vile atrocity I have ever laid my eyes on. I don't think I've ever used the word 'demented' to describe something and meant it more literally than I do now, when I say that this is a demented piece of shameful trash and whoever wrote it should seriously be under psychiatric care or police surveillance.”

Chris laughed, “Oh come on. It's just your typical porn shit -”

“No! This is not just your _typical porn shit._ I don't know what kind of virginal little choir boy you people seem to think I am, but I've seen porn before – even gay porn – and I have never even heard of anything like this! I'm surprised that this is even legal! Is it?”

Chris gave Tom an incredulous frown and bit into the apple again.

“Chris,” Tom continued, shaking his head, “I don't honestly think I could live with myself after doing this. This is just -”

“- oh please! Give me a fucking break! What are you on about that's so bloody fucking awful?” 

Tom's lips trembled with indignant rage as he leaned forward and whispered, “You realize – I hope – that there are real people in this world that are suffering this kind of abuse as we speak! And you want to make some kind of sick fucking sexual fantasy out of it?”

“What?” Chris stared back looking insulted, “I'll have you know I had a hand in that, and I'm quite proud of it! And your acting like I'm some kind of sex offender? I'm playing your stepfather, and there's no insinuation whatsoever that you're under eighteen! So what the fuck?”

“I can't do this! It's irresponsible! Not to mention the ending, which goes completely against our agreement -”

“- what agreement?”

“You said no sex!”

“Yeah?”

“So! That's – that's penetration!”

Chris crinkled his nose incredulously. “It's my finger.”

“Exactly!”

“Oh, come on. You've never had a girl put her finger in your bum before?”

“Fucking no!” As soon as Tom said it, he regretted not just telling Chris that was none of his business.

“Well, mate, there's a first time for everything.”

“Not here. Not now. And _not with you._ ”

Chris shrugged. “What, I'm not so bad. I'm sure you've done worse. Besides, it won't hurt. I'm sure you've squeezed out bigger -”

“Oh God, will you shut up? You're disgusting!” Tom covered his ears as Chris laughed hysterically. “What are you? Ten years old?”

After Chris calmed himself down, he clapped his hand on Tom's knee, but it was quickly jerked away.

“Look,” Chris said, “I've come out here to make you an offer. They knew you would have a problem with the script, and especially the fingering. They'll pay you another thousand to go through with it, if you're willing to do one more thing.”

Tom was already shaking his head.

“Before you say no, I want you to know that that is five times what most men and women are getting for sex. You are really being treated like a star. And for your lack of experience and frankly unprofessional attitude, that's unheard of.” Chris paused to take another bite of his apple. He tried not to laugh when he saw the way Tom looked like he was going to cry. “All you gotta do, is let me rim you a little bit.”

“What?”

“You know,” Chris stuck his tongue out and deftly wriggled it between his lips, “toss your salad around?”

Tom just stared at Chris, bewildered.

Chris frowned, “Wow, mate. You really are a babe in the woods. I'm gonna eat your arsehole out for you!”

“Like bloody fucking hell you are!”

“Come on. It's nothing, you'll like it.”

“Are you daft? That's filthy! It can't be sanitary!”

“What?”Chris shrugged, “I've had worse things in my mouth trust me -”

“Oh! I think I'm gonna be sick!”

“- and besides, I know you've gotten yourself all cleaned out, so there shouldn't be any scat issues, right?”

“What?”

“You know, you went and got an enema before you came down here, didn't you?”

Tom scrunched his face. “No. Why would I do that?”

Chris groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Are you serious? I told you we were shooting a video where we're going to spreading your arsecheeks wide apart with close-ups and you just came down here after a little shower? I guess there's no point in me asking if you've had a wax and bleach job?”

Tom just stared back at Chris like he was speaking a foreign language.

Chris sighed as the humor fell from his face. He tossed his half-eaten apple into a bush. “Whatever. I guess they love you for being all _au naturale_ anyway.” He stood up to take something out of his pocket. “Look, just do me a favor and use these before we get going.” He threw a mini disposable bag of baby wipes in Tom's lap. “Be _thorough_ , all right? It'll be a good time to loosen yourself up a little bit, too. Because that ass is getting worked.”

 

Tom was in the bathroom, naked, slightly wet, and waiting for his cue to come out. There was a towel wrapped around his waist and the hairbrush he had been informed to bring out with him was sitting on the counter. He had used the baby wipes as Chris directed and now his ass felt cold and irritated, probably from all the alcohol in the damn things. He wondered if babies felt like this all the time. No wonder they cried so much.

A gentle rapping on the door got Tom's attention. It was Chris. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice, reminding him of how his mum would come to see him backstage before his performances at home, “we're just about to begin, and I wanted to see if everything's all right with you.”

“Yeah.” Tom shrugged.

“Ok. And hey, I'm sorry if I was a bit rough on you before. I actually really appreciate you doing this, 'cause I need the money and without you, I wouldn't have this job.”

“Of course.” Tom smiled, “I know we're both in the same boat.”

“That's right. Hey,” he said, checking out Tom's exposed body, “I gotta say, you're looking really good.”

“Well, I've been preparing for an audition, so I'm trying to put on a little weight, that's all.”

“Yeah? That's good. I wish you luck with that. I've got something coming up as well, so that's why I'm really eager to keep a good thing going here with Bob, you know.”

Tom smiled back again shyly.

“You know I really like you, Tom. I mean it.”

Tom met Chris's gaze and saw something soft in his eyes, something he hadn't seen there before but was afraid to trust all the same. He bit his lip, suddenly uncomfortable by the intimate situation. “Thanks, Chris. I really like you, too.”

Chris sighed deeply as his eyes made another sweep of Tom's wet body. “All right,” he said, laying a hand on Tom's shoulder, “I know you're gonna be great, as usual. Just let it happen, let yourself get into the moment, and no matter what, remember to trust me. Ok?”

“Sure.”

“And don't forget your hairbrush.” Chris winked as he handed the dreaded thing to Tom and exited the bathroom.

Minutes later Tom could hear Tony call to roll cameras. Then a hand silently waved for him to his make his entrance. He strolled into the room and past the cameras, comfortably believing he was a teenage boy in his room at home. He held on to the illusion with effort as he pulled the towel from his waist and bared his full nudity to a room full of people and cameras for the first time in his life. He had never been so aware of his penis, and so stupidly worried of what everyone thought of its size. He knew that's what everybody was thinking about. Of course they were. 

Tom was only pulling the brush through his damp curls for a few seconds when the bedroom door slammed and he jumped. Chris was glaring at him from the other end of the room.

“You take your shower?”

“Yeah.” Tom set the hairbrush down and self-consciously replaced his towel. He hadn't realized Chris was going to do such a good job disguising his accent, but guessed he should follow suit.

“All right. Then I guess it's time for your inspection.” Chris approached Tom and set a beer bottle on the dresser, right next to his hairbrush and fake wrestling trophies. He smelled as though he really had been drinking. What was he, a fucking method actor?

“Inspection?”

“Yeah.” Chris stepped closer, “Your mother says you're dirty. Says she never could get you to clean yourself right and she don't want you going out of the house anymore without being checked real good. She wants me to make sure you're clean, head to toe, before you step out of this house.”

Tom stood stock still, letting the fear of his character wash over him.

“You don't want your mom and me to be embarrassed, do you?” 

Chris brought his hand to Tom's hair, combing through it gently. It was soothing. Tom closed his eyes, trying to remember that this was Chris, his friend, someone he could trust to carry him through this nightmare that was only just beginning. Chris didn't want to be here, either, Tom told himself. That's what he had been trying to say in the bathroom. They were both victims here, trying to become something, making sacrifices in the hopes that their dreams would come true. 

There was strength and tenderness in Chris's touch as his hands played in Tom's outgrown curls. Tom dropped his head slightly, wishing he could fall into Chris's shoulder.

Chris whispered, “You always had pretty hair, boy. The prettiest. It ain't clean, but, I guess that's all right for now.” And then louder, waking Tom from his dream-state, Chris said, “Now open your mouth.”

Tom obeyed, feeling Chris's thumb snag against his moist lips as it passed over them before pushing inside. “You keeping your mouth clean? That's the most important part. That's the mouth you kiss your mother with.” 

Tom shut his eyes and closed his lips around Chris's thumb as he pushed it in and out. After a minute or two he pulled it completely out, and smeared Tom's lips with wetness, leaving them glistening. Tom opened his eyes and looked to Chris for guidance. He felt lost, like maybe he had broken character. Should he have done that? Closed his mouth and sucked, given in like he liked it? Was he being too wanton, too willing?

Chris's hands were on his waist, and with a flick of his wrist the towel dropped to the floor. Tom was naked again. Chris let out a soft moan as he looked down at Tom, taking him all in. Tom swallowed and closed his eyes as Chris gently stroked his flanks and ass. 

“You feel clean to me, boy,” he whispered, his breath catching, “you feel _good_ and clean. You did a good job. I'm proud to see that you're learning.”

Tom swallowed, not opening his eyes, but just trying to focus on Chris's touch. It grounded him and made him feel less alone under the lights, less like a thing on display.

“Can I go now,” Tom cringed inwardly as he forced the next word out, “Dad?”

“No! We're not done yet!” Chris flung Tom backwards roughly. He felt his cock bounce around as he hit the bed, and the illusion of intimacy was broken. He could see the room full of judging eyes and hear the hum of the equipment that was all here to capture his imminent humiliation. Again. Why did he keep agreeing to this?

“Turn over, on your hands and knees.”

Tom did it slowly. At least when he was looking down, he couldn't see how many people were watching him.

“Spread out.”

Tom spaced his knees apart, and could feel the cool air between the cheeks of his ass.

“Wider, come on!”

He spread his knees further. Chris didn't say or do anything, and Tom knew that he, like everyone else in the room, was simply staring at him. And not just at him, but at the most guarded, secret parts of him. They were relishing him in this vulnerable, abject position, memorizing his body as it waited for abuse. The silence was bad enough, but when he heard the cameras closing in for a better shot he really believed he might cry. Unlike the other times, he couldn't even rouse himself to anger just to keep from falling apart. Fool me once, as they say. He was the one that was here to degrade himself for money, again. No one else had made him do this. He felt a tightness in his chest and tried to breathe through it, but it was no use. Tears began brimming from his eyes.

Chris got on the bed, kneeling between his open legs. His hands were on him again, and Tom hated that it felt better to be touched. He was being soft, but it wouldn't stay that way for long. Soon he would be hurting him again, spreading him wide and doing things to him that he had never wanted anyone to do. And all for money. Tom's chest began to heave and though he tried to hold them back, tears began falling from his eyes.

“You crying, boy?”

“Yes.” Tom sniveled, sucking the snot back into his head before it could fall on the bedspread. In front of the cameras.

“Why? You scared?”

Tom nodded his head, knowing that if he spoke his voice would betray his broken state.

“You worried about what I'm going to find when I look down here?”

Tom remembered the absurd story they were supposed to be playing out. It compiled even greater pain in his heart as he remembered how exploitive and insensitive it was, and that he was party to such an ugly creation, meant to be consumed by what he could only imagine was the scum of humanity. He laid his head on the bed and began openly sobbing.

“Answer me!” Chris gave Tom's ass a warning slap.

“Yes! Yes, I'm dirty! I'm sorry...” Tom blubbered out, moaning after he heard his own pathetic voice. He wanted to bury his face into the bed, but knew that they might stop shooting if he did that, prolonging the inevitable. He just wanted it all to end, and at this point, he was already so damaged, he might as well just go through with it and get the fucking money.

“You thought I wouldn't find out?” Chris said, “You thought you were gonna sneak out of here without me knowing what a filthy little ass you were taking out of the house?” He slapped his ass again, harder.

The sting was welcome this time. It was a distraction. It stopped him from thinking about the shame, the embarrassment, and the total degradation of his personal values. When it faded away, all he wanted was for Chris to spank him again.

“Answer me, you little fuck!” Chris grabbed Tom's thighs and planted his knees further apart so that Tom was shaking as he tried to maintain the stretched position. Chris got off the bed and stood over him.

“Show me your ass.”

Tom knew what this meant. It was time for him to reach around and spread himself wide for Chris. He had known this was going to happen, but now it seemed impossible. His limbs seemed immobile, and he simply laid helplessly on the bed, trying to stifle another sob. Chris slapped him again, shocking his senses back to life.

“Spread your ass for me, boy.”

The sting was merciful. Tom could move again. He focused on the pain as he forced his hands to reach behind and spread his own ass as far apart as he could. He was wide open, the cold air breezing past parts of him that had never known this kind of exposure. Chris was making terrifying, ugly noises, like an animal. Tom waited impatiently for him to speak or strike or do something that would move this horror towards its end.

“You still look clean to me darling. Why don't you tell me why you're crying?”

Tom forced his legs further apart, as far as they would go and made more of an effort to stretch his ass wide. It wasn't much, but the gesture was an invitation for Chris to take this thing to its climax. He could hear Chris step forward and put his hands right on the moist center of his behind. He pressed one palm right over his opening and the other hand went for his balls. This wasn't supposed to happen, but Chris obviously knew he could take advantage at this point. Tom wasn't going to say no to anything this close to being able to get finished.

Chris massaged Tom's balls only for a few seconds before taking his cock in hand and working it. Tom didn't even want to fight anymore. Chris definitely knew what he was doing, and had Tom hard in less than a minute or two. The hand on his ass was gone for a moment, and when it returned, it was wet and cold.

“Is this where you're dirty? Do I need to check here, too?”

Tom tensed up; it was obviously the worst thing he could do, but he couldn't help it. Trying to loosen up was impossible. Chris's thumb breached him anyway way, forcing it's way deep immediately. Tom cried out. He didn't know why, but it couldn't be undesirable to anyone else at this point. Pain and hurt was what they must be wanting. If they had wanted someone who would enjoy this they would have gotten someone cheaper. Chris was fucking him with his thumb now, and Tom knew he must be enjoying himself from the way he could hear him breathing between his own cries. 

“I can feel it now. You are dirty. Just like I knew you'd be. I guess you still need help getting clean, just like a little boy. Is that right? Do you need daddy to get you all clean down there?”

Tom was glad hear barely hear it all over his own whining. All that was important was that he knew how to respond.

“Yes.” 

It was barely audible, and he almost coughed trying to get it out. Snot was pouring out of his face but there was nothing he could do with his hands still holding himself open to Chris, cramping from the strain. Chris was on his knees now, and Tom was granted a short relief when he finally pulled his thumb out of Tom, but seconds later he could feel face against him. Tom jumped forward. He didn't know what to expect from this but it was almost nice. He quieted down, feeling Chris's tongue exploring the knot of his ass.

His senses flared and the hairs on his legs stood on end. He was aroused. Chris was still working his cock, and though he felt shame in it, he let himself sink into the pleasure, if only to let his mind escape his surroundings. Chris was doing good, and he could hear nothing but him gasping for air as he sucked his ass and lightly, but deftly pumped his cock. Tom wanted to come, and realized finally that this was to be the climax, that it was him they all wanted to see come.

He let it happen. It was the most painful, miserable, and wracking orgasm he ever had. He screamed out angrily as it happened, still crying, lifting his face for the hated cameras as he felt trails of snot and tears pouring down his face. Then he blacked out.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't until the next morning, after waking up in his own bed, that Tom realized Chris must have forgotten all about spanking his butthole. He had been dreaming that he was miniaturized, lost in a forest that was actually the bristles of the hairbrush he had thought would be used on him, and suddenly a gigantic Chris was looming over the dresser where the thing sat. Chris was searching for him, and Tom cowered between the bristles to keep from being seen. Tom woke up just as Chris's eyes had located him, and his booming triumphant laughter had roused Tom from the nightmare.

Yes, the dreaded butthole spanking had never came to pass. Not that he minded, really. Chris, he guessed, wherever he was, probably still hoped he would get his chance to do that to him some day.

“Bastard,” Tom hissed out loud, and chuckled, “I'd like to see him try.”

He still couldn't help wondering _why_ it hadn't happened though, after all the build-up Chris had given him about it. It _was_ strange.

Tom shook the worry away. Doesn't matter, he thought. Why should I care as long as I've got my mo-

Tom sprang up in bed. His eyes shot around the room.

His check. _Where was his check?_

He jumped out of bed, and realized he was in his underwear. More questions suddenly surfaced in his mind. How had he gotten home? Who had put him in his bed? And taken his clothes off? Or had they ever gotten back on him? What had happened the rest of the previous day? Where was his phone and wallet?

He twirled around his room mindlessly until he caught a welcome sight. Neatly folded on a chair were his pants and shirt, and on top of them sat his phone and wallet. Tucked underneath was a white envelope.

He dashed across the room and tore the envelope open. Inside was a check made out to him for the amount of five thousand dollars. Thank God.

He laid back on the bed and decided to bunch everything involving Chris, Bob, Tony, that stinking house in Tarzana and maybe the whole city of Tarzana, as well as Nell because fuck her for even tempting him into this, into the belief that it was all one big nightmare that he never had to think about again. That made him feel a lot better. Until he walked out into his living room.

He froze when he saw what was on his couch. Beneath his periwinkle blue childhood blanket, embroidered with a golden teddy bear and 'Thomas' in cursive letters, was a sleeping man. Chris.

He crept closer, still in disbelief, until he was standing over him.

As if sensing Tom's nearness, Chris rolled towards him and opened his eyes, yawning as he stretched his arms. Then he settled back and looked up at Tom dreamily. “Hey, you,” he said as sweetly as his sleepy voice would allow, “How you feeling?”

Tom just stared back. Had he entered some other bizarre dimension? How was his life's only enemy not only in his flat but acting like they were best mates? And making himself cozy under _his damn blanky?_

Tom tore the blanket roughly off of him. “What are you doing here?” he snarled.

Chris furrowed his brow, “What? I'm the one who brought you home yesterday! A lot of thanks I get for being so kind, huh?”

“So I suppose you're the one who stripped me out of my clothes? Did you enjoy that?”

“You're kidding me, right? I mean, I'm the one who put you back in them an hour before.”

Tom didn't know what to say. How could he argue about events that he didn't even remember? All he could do was ask questions, not that he believed he would get the truth from any of them. So what was left to do, really, besides narrow his eyes at Chris, wishing they could shoot burning lasers, as he balled his blanky up against his nude chest.

Chris seemed unaffected by Tom's hateful stare. “Man, that head of curls is even more adorable all ruffled by sleep!”

Tom spun on his heels and stormed into his kitchen. When he got there he relaized that what he wanted, namely his kettle, was still next to the couch. Damn it!

Chris was sitting up, watching him as Tom wrapped himself in the blanket like it was a toga. 

“You're one of those that are even more gorgeous when you're mad. I could watch you all day, no matter what mood you're in.” Chris laced his fingers behind his head and fell back, still watching Tom as he returned to the coffee table for his kettle.

“I want you out of here!” Tom spat, “I mean it. _Please leave,_ and don't call or come back here ever again.” Tom walked back to the sink and filled his kettle. When he returned to the living room Chris hadn't moved. He was staring back at Tom with a baffled, hurt look on his face.

“Are you having a problem with English? _Get out!_ ” Tom pointed at the door.

“What about your car?” Chris asked.

“What _about_ my car?”

“It's still in Tarzana. Why do you think I stayed the night? I thought you'd want a lift back to your car when you woke up!”

 

One of Tom's neighbors winked at him when they were walking to Chris's car. He almost grabbed her by the shoulders and begged her to believe it wasn't what it looked like. After she stepped into her flat Chris elbowed Tom.

“See? You're neighbor thinks you got lucky last night. Who do you think she's jealous of – me or you? I'll bet she's jealous of me. She's probably got a crush on you. I bet every girl in this building dreams about handsome English Tommy in number thirty-six.”

Tom ignored him, jamming his hands into his coat pocket and walking ahead.

Chris whistled, “Hey! Where you going? I'm parked right here!” 

Tom turned around and saw Chris standing next to a black muscle car. 

“Shit, man. You really _were_ out of it yesterday if you can't even remember what car it was that brought home!”

Chris jumped in and unlocked the door for Tom, who made a disgusted face when he hopped in. “This is the car you drive around Los Angeles? Do you enjoy spending fifty dollars a day in gasoline? I'm sure Mother Earth is very grateful as well. No wonder you say you're broke!”

“Hey, take it easy. This is a classic car. It's a 1967 Implala, same as the one those demon hunters drive in that one show. People love this fucking thing, you have no idea how many friends I've made in LA because of this beauty right here.” Chris patted the dashboard affectionately and then started the engine.

Tom stared out the window, struggling with the temptation to bring up the aborted butthole spanking. They drove a few minutes without speaking until Chris finally broke the silence.

“So, Thomas. Tell me, what is it like to pass out because you had such an intense orgasm?”

Tom's face burned. He glared over at Chris to see him beaming obnoxiously with one arm hanging out the window.

“So is _that_ what you think happened?”

“Well, yeah. What the fuck else would you call it? I jerked you off, you squirted spunk all over the bed – and when I say all over, I mean _all over_ the bed, mate. It was everywhere. Sexy as hell but it made a real mess for the crew to clean up. It actually got _on_ the camera that was -”

“- _thank you!_ I get the picture, Chris!”

“- and then you just fell over,” Chris made a popping sound effect, “and that was it. Out like a light.”

“I'm sure the horror I experienced beforehand had _nothing_ to do with it!”

“The horror? You read the script -”

“Yes. I read a script that included dialogue which made it explicit that this was not an act of incest, and that had an arsehole spanking as its climax, _not_ a handjob!”

“Well,” Chris laughed, “there's always a bit of improv in great art, and,” Chris laughed even louder, “if you're really disappointed about the arsehole spanking, you and I can arrange a private -”

“No! It's not about that. The point is, every time I work with you people, something is _sprung_ on me. I'm a joke to you, and you, and the people you work with find joy in taking advantage of my admitted ignorance of this _sordid industry._ I'm sick of it, and glad I won't have to see any of your faces again!”

Tom regretted that last sentence immediately. It was something more appropriate for the moment you slam the car door and actually walk away from the person you're saying it to. They were still a good fifteen minutes from Tarzana and now Tom was stuck sitting next to a person he had just blasted.

“Don't bundle me up with them, Tom. I told you I'm on your side. I mean, your the third person that's gotten on my arse about the butthole spanking. I didn't do it because you were _fucking crying,_ mate. Crying your fucking eyes out. I'd never seen anything like that before. I had no idea whether those tears were real or not. I was a bit freaked, you know, and I wasn't about to keep on with you like that. I figured you'd already been stellar enough, and since they needed a climax I'd make it your's, something nice to end it. I know you said not to touch your junk but I made an executive decision. I thought I'd done right, but apparently, I was wrong.” Chris frowned and shook his head, “You know, you're the third person that's gotten on my arse over the ending. I had to promise Bob and Tony I'd convince you to do another video so I could get my pay.”

Tom laughed riotously, not saying anything.

“What?” Chris asked peevishly.

“That is absolutely _fucking not_ going to happen.”

“Do you even want to hear the terms?”

“No.”

Chris started and stopped several times. They turned off the freeway, and at a stoplight Chris faced Tom and said, “For ten thou -”

_”- I said, No! I don't even want to hear it!”_ Tom screamed, and was surprised by how respectfully Chris obeyed. 

But the poison seed was already planted. Ten thousand? Now Tom's mind was turning. He glared at Chris, half of him hoping that he would finish explaining the offer, but Chris remained tight-lipped as he turned the gurgling Impala onto Ventura Boulevard.

Minutes later they were pulling up behind Tom's Honda on the quiet residential street. 

“So I guess this is goodbye?” Chris said, heartbroken, or at least doing a good job of looking that way.

Tom rested his hand on the door handle and slouched in the seat, inviting Chris to tempt him into another hellish adventure.

“Can I just finish telling you what Bob is offering, so I know I did my best and when I don't get paid for my work I can -”

_“- just go ahead.”_

Chris fidgeted in his seat. He seemed to be looking for the right words, and his reluctance itself was enough warning to Tom that this would not be an easy ten thousand dollars.

“So, you told them that you're a virgin...” Chris paused to raise his eyebrows and give Tom a _so-this-is-all-your-fault_ look, “and there's nothing people would love to see more than a sweet young thing like you get your cherry popped -”

Tom replied by yanking fruitlessly on the door handle. “How the _hell_ do you work this thing?” He gritted and yanked harder, using all his strength and feeling trapped.

“Whoa, whoa! Easy there, tiger!” Chris leaned over Tom's lap and gently pulled up on the handle. “It's an old car, and expensive to repair. I don't need you tearing it to -”

Chris's last words were drowned out be the slamming of the car door once Tom was standing on the other side of it. He walked haughtily to his little Honda and hopped in, grateful for the familiar smell of his own car. He saw Chris pouting in the review mirror and felt satisfied. He really hoped Chris was being finagled out of his pay because he was unable to convince Tom to whore himself. That was _his_ mistake. 

Tom started his car and made a reckless u-turn to show Chris one more time what he thought of him. Stupid, he knew, but recent events had made him feel entitled to acting like a child. Then he sped off, and decided to cash his check and do a little shopping before heading home with an eighty-dollar bottle of chardonnay. He felt like a movie star already.

At home he admired his new clothes while he sipped the extravagant wine. He recalled the moment he had brought it to the counter and payed for it as nonchalantly as possible, noticing how the cashier peered at him, respectfully but curiously, as she probably tried to recognize him and assumed that he must be a successful actor. Of course he must be – young, handsome, and easy-going as he carelessly threw eighty dollars away on a single bottle of wine. Maybe she was envious, probably a struggling actress herself dreaming of the day she could go out and make such a purchase like it was nothing. He giggled at how he had fooled her.

Or maybe he _hadn't_ fooled her, he thought as his grin slackened. Maybe she _did_ recognize him. 

He still hadn't watched a single one of his videos and had no idea how many people had. Obviously many, if Bob and Tony were so relentless in trying to get him to make more. He also didn't know how much face time he had been given, though once again the answer was probably somewhere in the vicinity of _lots._

What could this mean for his legitimate career? He swallowed his glass to drown out the pointless worry, telling himself that the only thing he could now do was to stay away from Bob and Chris and focus on the future. Also a distraction might be nice.

He poured himself another glass and rang his mum. He felt neglected when he got her voicemail. He rang his sister, and was happy when he heard her bright voice, obviously pleased to hear from him. Unfortunately, as loving sisters are wont to do when their little brothers move to California to become movie stars, all she wanted to talk about was what Tom had been up to. And that was exactly what Tom _didn't_ want to talk about. He wanted to hear about boring things, like English weather, work troubles, and one year-old nieces that won't sleep through the night. But Emma would have none of that.

“Have you got any promising auditions? How have you been making ends meet?”

He focused on the first question, the second one being an entirely undesirable topic of conversation. He told her about the _Thor_ auditions, and about Kenneth Branaugh's involvement. He exaggerated his chances, knowing in his heart that he was slight and decidedly delicate-looking while hundreds of hulking blondes had their eyes on the same prize and his Shakespearean background wasn't really a deal-maker for Marvel. In reality, everything hinged on Ken being willing to stake his directorial career on Tom pulling off the part of a thunder god, and the more he thought about it the more he realized that Ken was probably _not_ going to make that mistake.

At the mention of Ken, Emma started babbling about the dismal _Wallander_ show they had made together and how handsome and charismatic he had been on it. He didn't remind her that Tom had only had about fifteen minutes on-screen for the entire two seasons and that most of that time had revolved around Ken's character treating Tom's character like an idiot. It hadn't exactly been a flattering addition to his oeuvre.

The conversation rounded out with Emma reminding Tom that he shouldn't be afraid to ask for a few quid if he needed it. She admitted that she had been storing some money away for just that purpose, and though it was a beautiful offer, he wasn't about to take money away that could be used for his precious little niece. His resolve was strengthened when he took another glance at the bottle of wine sitting next to him.

“You should really call dad,” she said before they hung up, “he's been asking about you but I think he's afraid to call because he thinks you're still sore at him.”

Tom and his father had had a rough man-to-man shortly before Tom had moved to Hollywood. He thought Tom should be appreciative of the TV and radio work he had been getting alongside the very respectable stage work, and didn't understand why his son would throw that all away to chase some ridiculous fancy of becoming a big-time star. Tom had been badly wounded; it seemed like what his father was telling him is that he wasn't _good_ enough to be a star. But now there wasn't a day that passed that he didn't kick himself for not hearing his father's good sense.

He rang him up, and was his dad picked up almost immediately, as if he had been expecting Tom's call. It felt good to hear his dad's voice, and they beat around the bush for a while before his father apologized for his lack of faith. It brought tears to Tom's eyes. He protested, saying that his father had been right, and Tom had been stupid to have been so stubborn and cold these last few months. They talked about the _Thor_ auditions, and then his father tried to offer Tom money, even adding that it would be a good time to re-finance the house since he and his mum had almost paid off the mortgage.

Tom refused, and when his father deduced that Tom surely must have gone through the money had saved up by now, Tom lied and said that he had picked up a little part-time job. It wasn't a lie, really, until his dad had pressed for details and Tom told him it was in a coffee-shop. It rankled him as he thought of Chris again.

He still felt refreshed when he got off the phone. He had his family's love and support, and talking to them made him feel like he was still living in a world where thousands of people weren't jerking off to images of him being spanked and abused. He tidied his flat and got caught up with his laundry, telling himself that he was over his cold though he was still sniffling, and deciding that tomorrow he would begin a really intense exercise regime to get ready ready for the audition. He concluded the evening by taking a very realistic look at his finances, which maybe wasn't such a good idea since things weren't as pleasing as he hoped.

He had managed to get caught up on the rent, sure, but he still had monstrous credit card bills and a car payment that was behind. After he applied everything he had to these debts he would be left with almost nothing. He needed money for the expensive personal trainer that had been recommended to him, as well as all the regular living expenses ahead of him. 

He settled into bed, bewildered as to how other struggling actors managed to survive in this place without doing porn or borrowing from their parents.

_Or did they?_

 

By the end of the following week, Tom _felt_ like Thor. His body was sore all the time, but his mind felt smooth and focused. The disgusting protein shakes started to taste fabulous, and spending eight hours a day working out at the gym with his trainer no longer sounded like insanity. Money worries still plagued him, but he had was a strange confidence that they would all be worked out. _Somehow._

The audition went wonderfully. He twirled the hammer and shouted the absurd lines with confidence and gusto as Ken and his associates watched with rapt attention and even clapped when he had finished. Ken personally came to see him afterwards and clapped him on the back in congratulations.

“I can already tell you that you've made the short list.” he said, “We're going to call you for instructions to come back some time next week, so keep your phone on you.”

He was so excited afterwards that he could barely drive. Twice a driver behind him had to honk as a stared dreamily into the green light in front of him. When he got home, he texted his sister the good news in the hope that she would ring back so he could share his happiness. He took a shower quickly and waited for her call. 

He heard the familiar tone when he was drying off and ran to get the phone. It wasn't her. And it wasn't an unknown number, either. He _knew_ who it was.

“I thought I told you _never_ to call me again.” Tom said, trying to be stern but still in too good of a mood to really pull it off. He just sounded pissy.

“I know,” Chris answered, unflapped and obviously expecting Tom's reaction, “I thought it was worth another try.” 

“Another try for _what_?”

“To see you again.”

Tom stifled a laugh but couldn't suppress the grin. As disgusting as Chris was to him, he couldn't deny how romantically sweet that was.

“And what do you want to see me for?”

“I don't know. Hang out, get a drink or something. I had a good day today and I kinda want to celebrate. Mind if I pick you up?”

 

An hour later Tom was back in the passenger seat of Chris's gas-guzzler, rolling a window down to avoid suffocating on the fumes of Chris's cologne. 

“You don't like it?” Chris asked, sniffing his own shoulder.

“There's no cologne in the world that smells good after you've poured the entire bottle on yourself!” Tom waved his hand around between him and Chris and scrunched his nose as if someone had let out an atrocious fart. 

“Sorry,” Chris said, obviously disheartened, “I wanted to be fresh for you.”

“Oh, you're fresh, all right. Ripe for the plucking, I'd say.”

 

Tom was relieved once they got inside the bar and found a booth. It was posh, almost too posh for Tom, and he was amused by the obvious fact that Chris had some idea of him being a fancy-pants. He was sure Chris wouldn't come to a place like this on his own.

“Well, what are you having?” Chris asked.

“Just a bourbon, neat.”

_“Neat?”_ Chris replied, shocked.

“Yeah.”

Chris went to the bar and fetched their drinks. When he set the drink in front of Tom, he watched as he took the glass to his lips and swallowed.

“Wow." Chris said, wide-eyed, "I didn't clock you for a straight bourbon kind-of-man. Shows how much I know, huh?”

Tom raised his eyebrows and gave him a tight-lipped smile, wondering if Chris was really asking him to confirm what a moron he was.

“So,” Tom asked, “you said this was a celebration. What's the good news?”

“Oh,” Chris smiled shyly, “I don't really want to talk about it too much in case I jinx it. I'll just say that I might have a really great role coming my way, and if everything works out like I hope it will, then more good things might start happening for me.” 

He took a sip off his drink and looked back at Tom, his eyes twinkling as he said, “Then I won't be such a loser and you won't have to be so ashamed about seeing me.” He smiled plaintively, begging Tom tell him that he wasn't a loser at all and that he was only too proud to be taken out by a stud like him.

Tom squinted back at him, “Are you delusional?” He laughed derisively, “We're not _seeing_ each other!”

“What do you _mean_? This is the second time we've gone out!”

Tom threw his head back to laugh fully at Chris's pathetic misunderstanding. “That _lunch_ was a business conference. And as far as I'm concerned,” Tom pounded his finger on the table, “that's what _this_ is, too.”

That hadn't been true until Tom had said it. The truth was that he would rather reconsider the video offer than admit that he had actually _wanted_ to see Chris.

Chris just stared back at Tom as if he had told him his mother had died.

“See, I have things happening for me, too, and I'm going to need to support myself for a few more months here in LA. Now the last time we spoke, you said something about ten thousand dollars...”

Chris was still lost in a reverie of sadness.

“Hello?” Tom waved a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah,” Chris said shaking himself awake, “full intercourse. With a little spanking and a creampie at the end. The creampie is a must, there's no deal without it.”

“A fucking cream pie? What is it - some kind of domestic kink? They wanna see me get fucked and then happily strap an apron around my waist and bake you a pie?”

“No, no,” Chris let out an embarrassed chuckle and then explained in a low voice, “I'm going to ejaculate inside of you, and then we're going to film you pushing the semen out. In the business it's called a creampie.”

“ _Creampie._ Very professional.”

Chris shrugged. “So you in?”

“I don't know. It make take me a few minutes to decide if I value my dignity at less than ten thousand dollars.”

“Look, I know it might be a difficult thing to imagine doing the first time with a camera in your face. That's why I wanted to offer you another option that might make things a little easier...”

Tom perked up. Maybe Chris had seem sneaky plan to make it _look_ like they were fucking when they really weren't. “Okay...” 

Chris's eyes were twinkling again. “Well, it doesn't have to _be_ your first time, it just has to _seem_ like it. I was thinking that maybe sometime this week, or whenever you're ready, you can come over and we can have a nice little private session at my place. You know, keep everything calm and easy, we can go at your pace, take our time and I'll show you how to do it so it's not painful. We can have some drinks, I even have a stash of muscle relaxers if you prefer, and some toys and other things that we can practice with. That's how it was for me my first time, and I'm glad because otherwise I may not still enjoy it as much as I do. If you want we can even switch things up so you know what it's like from both perspectives. That way, when we shoot, you'll be ready and you only have to _act_ like a virgin, which I'm sure you can do no problem.”

Tom's expression had been slowly darkening as Chris spoke and now he looked positively repulsed. “So let me get this straight,” he said, finishing his bourbon in one gulp, “Your solution to the problem of me not wanting to fuck you _once_ is for me to fuck you _twice_? Which is it? Are you crazy, or just plain stupid?”

Chris stared down into his drink, obviously humiliated, but Tom had not spent all of his venom yet.

“Listen here, Mr. - whatever the hell your last name is, I don't really care – I have _no_ desire to have any sexual contact with _you_ unless I'm getting paid for it. Period.”

Tom had thought it would feel really good to say that to Chris, but instead he realized that it just made him sound like a whore. And a really nasty, heartless whore at that.

Tom stood up, feeling an overwhelming desire to get as far away from Chris as possible. He took a twenty out of his pocket and threw it on the table, removing any cause for Chris to think this was a _date._

“Talk to Bob and whoever else and set up a time and place when they want to do this revolting thing.” He started putting on his coat and Chris got out of his seat. “Don't bother,” he sneered, “I'll take a cab home. I can't _stand_ another ride in your hideous death trap. _It hasn't even got a shoulder-belt for Christ sakes!_ ”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, friends!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, and support. I hope you have enjoyed reading Tom's adventures as much as I've enjoyed sharing them with you.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Tom rapped loudly on the door of what was supposed to be Chris's apartment. He hoped he was at the right place but began to wonder after standing and waiting for almost a minute. Finally heavy footsteps marched to the door, and it was opened. Chris welcomed him inside, and Tom did his best not to be too personal and smile or look him in the eye. Or even say hello. Tom thought it was merciful not to give Chris any more reasons to think they were dating or even friends.

Chris seemed nervous. “Okay,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face, “before we go in there, I want you to be ready. Like last time, you have to trust me. Just go along with it, bear through it, and remember, none of it's real -”

“I don't want your bullshit assurances, Chris,” Tom broke in, “I know it's going to be filthy, and traumatizing, and that I'm going to hate every minute of it and want to kill you while your fucking me but then it's going to be over and I'm going to leave and I will never have to see you again. Don't stand here and pretend like you respect me and think you're doing anything besides making me despise you more. Where's my money?”

“It's in there.”

In there? _Where's there?_ And where the hell is everybody, anyway?”

“There's only one person besides us here tonight.” Chris was whispering, “He's all set up in the bedroom and,” Chris laid his hands gently on Tom's shoulders, but Tom viciously threw them off, “and it starts as soon as we walk through that door. That's why I want you to make sure that you're ready for what's coming to you...”

Tom rolled his eyes and laughed. “That's like telling a child to be ready for his flu shot. I'm going to hate it no matter what! I don't want to think about it until it's happening and when it's happening I _still_ don't want to think about it. Let's go!”

“Okay,” Chris shrugged, “though what you're getting tonight is a bit more than a flu shot.” He knitted his brows as he watched Tom laying his coat over the coach, “Hey, you look _big._ What have you been up to?”

“I told you before – I'm preparing for a role!” he snapped, but couldn’t help noticing that Chris looked like he had put on some muscle, too. He didn't say anything about it, though. Why would he?

Tom walked into the bedroom ahead of Chris and looked around at the scene of his forthcoming deflowerment. It was unremarkable in everything except the presence of a greasy-looking man in sagging jeans with a camera on his shoulder. The device's red light was already glaring at Tom. 

Tom pointed at the camera man, “What is this? Reality TV?”

Chris ignored the comment and tapped Tom on the chest with an envelope, “Here,” he said, “this is yours. Count it and make sure it's all there.”

“Count it?” Tom squinted at Chris and grabbed the envelope. It was loaded with hundreds. “Cash? Do I look like a drug dealer to you? What am I supposed to say to my bank clerk when I walk in with -”

Tom shut up when Chris laid something against his mouth that smelled like leather. “You're not being paid to yap,” he said in a calm, amused drawl, “so, if you continue to complain, I'm going to expect compensation. _In any form I choose._ ”

Tom knew just enough about horses to be sure that his lips and cheek were being tickled by the looped popper of a riding crop.

“What do you mean to do with that?” Tom hadn't meant to sound so frightened, but seriously, he knew from boyhood rough-housing that those bloody things _hurt_. In Chris's hands, it could result in a trip to the hospital.

“Nothing, I hope.” Chris replied, “We'll just have to see how well you can behave.” Chris crossed his arms over his chest, “Now take your money out of the envelope, count it, and keep it with you so there's no question of anybody trying to take it from you.”

“I don't think anybody's going to – _aagh!_ ”

Chris whacked Tom hard on the side of his leg. Even with his Levi's on the thing had a bite. Tom knitted his brows and pulled out the hundreds. He fanned the bills out and gave them a cursory glance. “Yeah, it's all here,” he said, shrugging.

“Good,” Chris replied, “now strip.”

Here we go, Tom thought, sighing. He turned to set the stack of hundreds on a nearby desk but his hand was met by another sharp smack from the crop.

“ _Fuck!_ What'd you do _that_ for?” 

“I told you to keep that money with you. Now pick it up.” Chris pointed at the stack with the crop.

“How can I hold it _and_ take my clothes off at the same time?” Tom put one hand on his hips and cocked his head like a teenager in a sitcom.

Chris narrowed his eyes at the money and then came to a solution. He grabbed the stack and folded it. “Here,” he said, jamming the bills between Tom's teeth, “keep it there when you need to. That'll help with the back-talk, too.”

Tom stared at Chris in disbelief as the smell and taste of dirty money filled his senses. He began undressing, aware that Chris was enjoying the show. When he stood completely naked before him, Chris gave some unsurprising directions.

“Get on the bed, on your hands and knees, with your ass facing me.”

Tom did as he was told, listening to Chris mumble his approval as his bare behind was displayed.

“Now face the camera so the boys and girls at home can see that you've been paid and are being treated fairly.”

Tom turned toward the red light with the money between his teeth. He couldn't resist the temptation to lift his right hand and flip the bird to whatever perverts were paying to see this shit. He heard something slice through the air and his ass took punishment for his bad behavior. Tom jumped.

“ _Don't_ be rude!” Chris thundered.

It felt like someone had thrown boiling water on his skin. The sting was relentless, throbbing and bright. His eyes crossed and he began breathing heavily and biting down on the bills between his teeth. He touched the skin of his ass, and was almost surprised when he realized he wasn't bleeding. 

“Now you know what happens to you when you misbehave.”

Chris occupied himself with Tom's body for a few minutes while Tom waited for the pain to dull. Chris went on and on about how beautiful he was and how excited he was to finally get a chance to put his dick in him. He freely fondled his prick and ass, complimenting his new welt and how well it accented the smooth roundness of his rump. 

Tom could feel wet kisses and his back and the tickle of Chris's hair falling on his skin. Eventually his mouth was on Tom's hole, and he was doing that _thing_ Tom couldn't stand because it actually sorta felt good. He didn't want to get excited and have to listen to Chris belittling him for getting a hard-on. 

Chris pulled back. “Hold yourself open for me so I can get a good taste of that virgin hole before I fuck it.”

Tom laid his head on the bed and made sure he was facing the camera – he was sure that's what Chris wanted and he didn't want to get yelled at. Or worse, whipped. The ten thousand dollars in his mouth was already getting soggy and he was worried about what state it was going to be in by the time they were done. He stretched his ass cheeks open and didn't really mind the dirty talk that began pouring from Chris's mouth or the way the pudgy camera man as he scrambled over to get a good close up. He had been here before.

He recognized the sound of the riding crop's popper hurling towards his ass but of course there was no time to shield himself. He felt it right on his wet, open hole and let out a deafening wail before the pain even had a chance to shoot up his spine and make itself known to his brain. He flopped onto his back, convulsing as he pressed deeply into his anus, practically fingering himself as he tried to rub the sting away. He could barely see out of his tearing eyes, but he felt the bills that had flown out of his mouth as he rolled around on top of them.

_“Why did you do that?”_ Tom cried, betrayed.

“I know you feel cheated out of your butthole spanking last time we got together so I wanted to make it up to you.” Chris answered, “Now man up and pick up your mess. There's money all over the place and I know you don't want it to get lost.”

Tom wiped his eyes and got to work quickly, shooting fearful glances behind him in case Chris got tired of waiting and decided to whack him again. He shoved the money back in his mouth and waited for more instructions.

“Back as you were before.”

Tom got back on his hands and knees, trembling as he wondered if Chris was going to surprise him with the riding crop again. Instead he felt Chris's tongue on his hole again, and _God did that feel good now._ He whimpered thankfully, loving the way it felt warm and cool at the same time, soothing the burn and when Chris started moaning into him, the vibration shot through his body and he felt his cock perk up a little bit. Oh, well. Just don't stop, he thought. _Please_ don't stop.

After a few minutes though Chris _did_ stop. Tom was laying face down on the bed, rubbing the salt of his dried tears out of his eyes as he heard Chris working his zipper.

“Turn around and sit on the edge of the bed. And pull that money out of your mouth.”

Tom's stomach dropped. It didn't take a genius to guess what was going to be demanded of him. 

Tom turned around to be faced with the biggest cock he had ever seen in his life poking out the top of Chris's jeans. That will kill me, he thought. There's _no way_ that's going to fit inside any part of me.

“Ever sucked a man's cock before?” Chris asked.

Tom shook his head, wide-eyed.

“Open up.”

With the hand that wasn't holding the riding crop Chris's eased himself further out of his jeans. Tom could see that even his balls were clean-shaven. It was nice-looking prick, Tom had to admit, but that still didn't mean he was looking forward to choking on it. 

Tom braced himself against Chris's thighs, clutching his money in his right hand. Chris used one hand to lay his stiff length on Tom's tongue, and the hand with the riding crop took purchase in Tom's hair.

“Close your lips around it.”

Tom was disgusted by the bitter salty precome he tasted in his mouth. His heavy breathing had left his mouth dry and his tongue stuck uncomfortably to Chris's flesh but he sucked tenderly on the tip anyway, not wanting Chris to get upset with him. Chris moaned in response, obviously pleased with Tom's amateur efforts, and Tom was relieved. 

“Use your tongue, baby,”

Tom began twirling his tongue around the tip, tasting more of the precome but appreciating the moisture it added to his mouth. Chris moaned louder and rolled his hips.

“Okay, you're doing good. Now open your mouth and do it so the camera can see.” 

Tom opened his mouth and continued flickering his tongue back and forth over the head of Chris's cock. His mouth was watering now and his tongue made obscene wet noises he hoped were satisfying for Chris.

“You getting this, Jim?”

The camera man adjusted the lens, closing in on Tom's mouth. He glared back at the camera for a moment then shut his eyes to focus all his attention on Chris's cock. Chris was pushing slowly deeper, holding Tom's head steady as he praised him.

“You're doing so good, Tom. I mean it. I'm proud of you. And you, you look so good like this, with your face full of cock. I wish you could see this. It looks almost as good as it feels.” Chris whimpered softly, sounding like he was about to cry, “Okay, babe I want you to open your eyes and look at me. Look right up here at me.”

Tom looked up into his eyes as Chris continued using his mouth. There was something frighteningly tender in them, something like love or pity, or maybe both. Something Tom didn't like. It wasn't acting, that much was clear. Tom closed his eyes again as Chris plunged deeper inside.

It was getting to be too much. Chris was tapping the back of his throat repeatedly, causing Tom to shudder and gag.

“Just take it easy, babe, your still doing good...” Chris assured him. Tom squinted, feeling his nipples harden as he tried to pull back, but Chris held him securely, fucking his face even though he moaned in protest. Finally, just as Tom was sure he was going to throw up, Chris pulled himself out and left Tom gasping for air.

“That's good. I need to save something for your ass.”

Tom was so happy the blowjob fiasco was over he was almost looking _forward_ to the ass-fucking. When Chris ordered him back on his hands and knees he was only too willing to comply.

Chris gave his hole a few kisses and then slathered something warm and oily over it. He started working it gently with his thumb as the camera took in every second.

“Tell me what you want me to do you.” Chris demanded.

Tom thought. The more excited he got Chris the sooner this would all be over, and possibly without any more punishments from the riding crop. It behooved him to pretend, as best he could, that he was enjoying this. 

He spoke in a low, gravelly tone, using the voice he usually reserved for erotic poetry readings, “I want you to fuck my virgin hole wide open, and unload your cock inside me.”

That worked, though Tom wasn't too happy with the results. Chris was sucking air through his teeth, obviously worked into a frenzy. He switched his fingers and forced two of them inside Tom. A lot more would be stuffed inside of him shortly, so he tried to bear through it and encourage Chris even further.

“I want all of it. I want you to fill me up with hot come, and then I want to feel it pouring out of me and dripping down my balls.”

Chris began cursing between baited breaths, and Tom curled his toes against the pain of a third finger inside him. Chris lost his patience and pulled his fingers out of him. His ass was given only a brief respite and then Tom could feel something different, something much, much bigger pushing against his entrance.

He was breached, and the intrusion was an epiphany. Tom gasped, it was like he had literally forgotten to breathe, to think, to do anything. He howled, choking as he tried to take another breath, but any movement he made worsened the searing pain. He was being torn apart - he knew it. He would die if it didn't stop now.

“No! - no! no! no! no! no! - stop, please! - pull it out! - pull it out!!!!” 

He tried to jump away, but Chris had him by the hips. It was unthinkable that it should be possible, but Chris was pushing further inside him, and every time he thought he was experiencing the most pain a human was capable of knowing it actually somehow got worse. 

Tom's mouth was open wide but he couldn't find the presence of mind to scream. Chris was behind him, still pushing and mumbling support, even reminding Tom to breathe. Every muscle in his body was tense and his nails were digging into his palms on the hand that didn't have a wad of money in it. Money that was _definitely not worth any of this._ He made a few more efforts to get away but that only made Chris squeeze his hold tighter around Tom's hips.

Tom was sure he was going to die. The burning pain wasn't just around his entrance anymore, he felt it deep in his guts. Something was spearing through him, tearing his insides apart.

“That's a good boy. Take it all inside you, love.”

Tom didn't know how much time had passed, but at some point he felt that Chris's groin was flush with his ass and his cock must be fully sheathed inside him. No one moved, and Tom could do little more than concentrate on providing his body with oxygen as he lived out what he was sure were his last moments on earth.

A strange calm settled over him. Maybe he was hyperventilating, and would hopefully pass out soon, or maybe his soul was resigning itself to the awful fate of death by anal sex. In the stillness, he sensed a strange thrum inside of him, and realized it was Chris's heartbeat. He could actually _feel_ his pulse in the blood pumping through his cock within him.

“Okay, you ready to get to it?” Chris asked.

Tom sobbed incoherently in response and shook his head.

“You're gonna do fine. Be a trooper for me, all right?”

And then he was being fucked. It was amazing that his body was still capable of feeling pain, and he wondered at what point nerves just decide to give up. Chris pulled out of him and drove back in slowly, and each time the emptiness was reinhabited, the horror of the first intrusion was relived.

Finally Chris drew completely out, and Tom wondered if his life was going to be spared after all.

“Flip over on your back,” Chris instructed, “so I can see your pretty face and neck.”

Tom obeyed, though he was sure nothing about his face could be pretty right now. Chris took him by the legs and pulled him down into his lap, then left Tom's legs slung over his shoulders. Jim, the shithead with the camera, moved over to the side of the bed by Tom's head so could get a fresh perspective.

Tom gritted his teeth as he was reentered and made the sad discovery that this position was even more excruciating. 

At least Chris was having a good time. He was sliding in and out of Tom at a slow pace, watching Tom's tear-stained face as it bounced with the rhythm of his hips. 

“So tight you are,” Chris said, “so fucking sweet and tight. You're like an angel laying there. Best thing my cock has ever felt. The best, the very best ass I've been inside of. Look at the camera, love. I want everyone to see how good you're getting fucked.”

Tom's eyes fluttered open at the lens pointing down at him. It was hard not to notice the tent in Jim's pants - apparently he was a man who enjoyed his work. Chris noticed it, too.

“Jim,” he said, “take your prick out and make him suck it. I wanna see him take him take two cocks at once.”

Tom could barely perceive what was happening. Jim was fumbling with his fly and finally a short, hard prick came flopping down onto Tom's cheek. He winced and tried to move away from it, but the leather popper on his neck warned him not to disobey.

“I know you don't want to disappoint me, Tom.” Chris said, sheathed in Tom but not thrusting as he threatened him with the crop.

Jim took one hand off the camera and gripped it in Tom's sweat-drenched curls. Tom opened his mouth for the grimy little cock and it's sour, sickening taste. 

Chris began thrusting again, doing it rough and lovelessly as he watched his precious crush be humiliated. Tom was contorted uncomfortably, trying to absorb Chris's abuse while he twisted his neck to the side so the cameraman could take advantage of his mouth. Tom could do no more than close his lips into a wet fuckhole for Jim to use, but that seemed to be enough. Jim pulled back the foreskin of his unwashed, uncut prick and more of his filthy taste flooded Tom's senses, making him gag harder than when Chris was pounding into the back of his throat. He strained to breathe through his nostrils, each inhalation bringing him more of Jim's stench. 

“You should see yourself now, angel,” Chris growled, increasing the speed of his thrusts, “you're no virgin anymore...”

It was a merciful few minutes before a thick slime was being poured into his mouth. Jim made an ugly sound and pulled out.

“Show it to me,” Chris begged in a hoarse whisper, “show me what he left you with.”

Tom rose an elbows and opened his mouth, displaying the white spunk between his tongue and lower lip. It drove Chris to the edge. His eyes darkened and his breath hitched as he soaked in the sight, lifting Tom's ass off the bed as he fucked into him with desperate rage.

“Keep it, keep it right there for me,” he repeated, the words sputtering out of him erratically as he reached his climax. Finally he released himself into Tom, the come rushing into him as hot and generous as he had feared it would be, burning his raw insides like acid.

It was almost over, Tom told himself as he continued to balance the spunk on his tongue. Chris pushed Tom's legs forward and pulled slowly out of him.

“You're good and bred now, sweetheart. Turn over and lift that lovely ass in the air so we can show everyone at home how bred we got you. That's right,” Chris said, encouraging Tom as he followed his orders, “and be careful to save that present Jim gave you in your mouth. I'm going to add to it in a minute.”

Tom flipped his exhausted body over, back on his knees, careful of his sore hole. It had to be damaged, it just had to be if it hurt like this.

Chris forced Tom's ass wide for Jim's camera.

“Okay, now push for me, angel. Push and show everyone what you got in there.” 

Tom promptly obeyed, and a disgusting, wet sound was accompanied by a warm trickle he felt trailing down onto his balls, almost exactly as foul as he imagined it would be when he asked for it earlier. Chris made some enthusiastic comments before surprising Tom by pressing his mouth over the fucked-out hole and brutally accosting it with his tongue. When he was done sucking the remaining come from Tom's ass, Chris gripped Tom's jaw and crushed their mouths together, sucking the filth out of Tom's face so it could mix with semen and blood he had already gathered in his own. Still holding his jaw, Chris pulled back to look at Tom's face once more before spitting the concoction all over his cheek, stunning Tom with the unexpected act.

Tom had shut his eyes to shield them from the deluge, and he opened them just in time to see Chris bringing the riding crop at full speed against his soaked cheek, landing with so much force that it actually tossed his head to the side.

 

The welt was still there two days later, a solid, perfectly straight pink line from his lip to his ear. He avoided looking in the mirror every time he went to use the bathroom. It looked like the mark of a villain, a portentous omen that would be confirmed by a phone call later that day.

Ken had used an obnoxiously cheerful voice to tell Tom that he hadn't gotten the part. The reason he was so happy, he said, was because he had always seen great potential in Tom to play the part of the film's villain, Thor's twisted evil brother. There were only three people auditioning for Loki, and Ken and his associates all had Tom as the favorite choice. He said he would email the scenes Tom would use for the audition, and suggested that Tom do some research into the character as he conceptualized how he wanted to bring Loki to life. Also, he asked Tom to lose some weight.

Not eating wasn't a problem. He was fairly sure his insides had been shreaded. Eating meant shitting and shitting meant pain, so he wasn't too keen on any digestive processes.

After being whipped in the face with the riding crop, Tom had quickly thrown his clothes back on his body and left Chris's apartment without speaking or looking at anyone. He had been shaking, and probably shouldn't have been driving, but was in no shape to think clearly about safety or anything but getting out of there. He hadn't even cleaned his face, which was still coated in dry blood and come when he got back home and looked in the mirror.

He laid at the bottom of his shower for almost an hour crying, then crawled into bed. The next morning he could barely move, his ass was so destroyed.

Ken's phone call had given him something to think about besides imagining ways he would like to kill Chris. Though it hurt to walk and to drive, he forced himself to visit all the comic stores in his area to collect Thor and Loki comics to read. At home he took again to the couch, reading Loki's stories, imagining a voice and a sense of self for the character, admiring his playfulness and his intelligence, and generally falling in love with him.

He began imaging new stories for Loki, imagined him responding to situations and events, and even indulged himself in writing a few adventures for him. He freely play-acted in the apartment, practicing the lines Ken had given to him as well as others he came up with. He loved Loki, felt that he was truly meant to bring him to life and even to make him a legend. He forgot about Thor, and knew that if he was given this part, he could outshine the main character in his own movie. It was destiny. He would make Loki one of the greatest villains of all time, equaled only by the likes of Hannibal Lector and Magneto. Loki would have throngs of devoted fans and an internet following the likes of which the world had never seen before...

Tom's audition was a spectacular success. Ken and everybody else present were astonished. He was offered the part right then and there. After meeting with his agent, a contract was drawn up that included Tom signing on to play the character in at least five more Marvel films. It was amazing.

His mum and sister cried when he told them the news, and his dad's voice cracked tellingly as well. He had made it. He was walking on air.

Everything about Chris and seemed to disappear. It had been a means to an end, and now it could be forgotten forever. _He was Loki now._

 

He showed up to meet the rest of the cast in the first rehearsals about six weeks later. It was to be an exciting day - the first time some of the sets and costumes would be revealed, the first time the cast and producers were gathered, and the first time time Tom would get to show off his fabulous character. He showed up at the studio and was met by a very chipper Ken Branaugh.

“So...” Ken said after a hug, “are you ready to meet your co-star?”

Tom felt like he had just been punched in the stomach. It was deja-vu, hearing those words. He suddenly felt like he was back in the house in Tarzana, months ago, and seeing Chris on the work-out bench by the pool.

“Hey,” Ken said, waving a hand in front of Tom's face, “are you okay? Lost you there for a minute."

Tom smiled, and shook himself from the nightmare. He couldn't allow those days to haunt him. They were behind him, and he wouldn't allow them to dampen the glory of his new life.

He followed Ken down the corridor to the conference room where the cast was mingling over donuts and coffee. He took a deep breath before entering the room, knowing in his heart that this was the beginning of a new adventure, and whatever hardships he would have to face, at least he would never have to see Chris again.


End file.
